In My Reflection
by funky pink high top
Summary: There are rare a few things that bring enemies together. Is one forgiveness?*CHAPTER 10*
1. Asking Why

I stared into the swirling water hatefully. How many times I told myself never again. How many times I promised myself it was over. How many times I wished I could follow my mistakes down the swirling porcelain dish. But I never did.  
Perfection, I learned, was impossible to achieve without hope. When I was told millions upon millions of time there was no such thing as perfection, I thought it to be impossible. OF COURSE perfection was possible, OF COURSE. I could be beautiful and educated and envied everywhere I went. Eyes could follow me naturally, hungering to have and be me. I could make girls stare after was curves in nothing but pure hatred. I could be perfect!  
But lying on the filthy, grimy tile, clutching onto a toilet, that was not perfect. It was just a step, I told myself countless times, a step to becoming a fabulous me. Little did I dare know I WAS that dirt on the floor, I WAS my pearly pink broken nail, I WAS the pain in my ass just by being me. Or convincing myself I was being me.  
But there was nothing I could do now. Getting my new skirt dirty on the bathroom floor while recollecting my little "sick session" wasn't making me better. I wasn't dominating anyone so I could be, you guessed it, perfect. All I could do was pop a Tic Tac and smile.  
A smile can veil a lot of things. Emotions, thoughts, opinions...a smile is just one big "Possibly Happy" sign that sits on your face.  
I was just a coat of lip gloss away from momentary recovery.  
So why didn't I move?  
I spend most of my life avoiding thinking why. Why do I even bother? The question pops up frequently as I tediously curl my hair or pluck the non- existent excess hair on my eyebrows. But I brush it away. That's the Sanders' way. Brush it under the carpet and it isn't there. But I feel it.  
I feel the question bubble under my heavily powdered skin nearly every day. If I think I'll approach it as it looms to attack its prey. So I don't think. Often.  
Yes, I'm perfectly happy, twirling my shiny blonde hair and hissing insults in class. Tapping my pens and writing notes and listening to some teacher drone on and on about some dead guy can be very distracting to a mind. It can no longer linger to the stack of unanswered questions that is so dangerously close to coming out and pouncing on me.  
So why didn't I go to class? Why didn't I stand up and let my high heels click across the girl's room as I hummed some pop song? Why didn't I just let it go?  
Because Lizzie McGuire was in my way.  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
A/N: Hello again. This is a little different from my other Lizzie fics, because...I got bored lol. Anyway, that was fun. The next chapter is going to be in Lizzie's point of view (if I can bare writing in it; I'm not very Lizzie McGuire) and then back to Kate's. This goes on sometime in the Lizzie portal...I don't know..if you've read my other fics, this is when Lizzie starts to grow apart from Gordo and Miranda. Okay, yeah, bye! Love to the Sisterhood! 


	2. Discovery

All I wanted was to check my lip gloss. I wasn't asking for this new heavy load of information to process. I just wanted to be able to get through the day without having disproportional lips! Is that so much to ask? I guess so.  
"What do you want, McGuire?," Kate snarled below me, almost looking scared. I wasn't quite sure what to do. On one hand, Kate made my life miserable day in and day out. On the other hand, she WAS human (deep down inside) and if she was hurting herself she had to stop.  
"Um..are you okay, Kate?," I asked feebly, offering her a hand up.  
"Yeah, why WOULDN'T I be?," She rolled her eyes as she pulled herself up.  
"Are you sure? Because it looked like-"  
"I don't care what it LOOKED like, Lizzie! It was just a.clumsy moment," She said lamely, brushing off her skirt.  
What was I supposed to do? I didn't know if she had ACTUALLY made herself sick. I had no proof but this weird feeling in my stomach.  
"Um..okay," I responded with a sudden lack of vocabulary. "Whatever." She stared at me with her hand on her hip. Oh, right.  
"Are you going to MOVE?," She questioned, pushing me out of the way. I stumbled into the wall as she gracefully stepped out of the restroom, leaving me in the gutter once again.  
The bell sounded before I had time to react to what just happened. Great. Late for class and I didn't even get to apply my Very Berry lip gloss! Kate Sanders is determined to ruin my life.  
~@~  
"Hey, guys," I greeted Gordo and Miranda as I sat down at the lunch table. "What's up?" Miranda merely glared at Gordo as he pretended he wasn't there. "Um..okay. Is it just me, or is it cold in here?"  
"Oh, hi, Lizzie," Gordo finally greeted me with a chip of bitterness. "Yeah, Miranda's just being an ass."  
"I AM NOT!," She exclaimed, hitting his arm. He let out an "Ow!" and rubbed the spot vigorously. Of course they were fighting. They were always fighting. Stupid, little fights. And I was almost envious of them.  
Why am I jealous of my two best friends, fighting over stupid things? Because I will never have that kind of relationship. I could never be able to fight with someone over and over again, day after day, and still love them like the great friends Gordo and Miranda are. Because I need to feel every emotion that runs through another person's mind. Because I care.  
I've tried not to care so much. I've tried to pretend I don't worry about what other people think about me. But it just doesn't work. I can't help but find myself worrying whether or not telling someone to "shut up" would be completely horrible or not! What is wrong with me?  
"Lizzie, honey, tell Miranda to get a life," Gordo glared at the girl next to him. I silently cringed at the "honey". Yes, everyone, I was going out with David Gordon, and not very happy.  
Okay, we were happy. One of those nauseatingly perfect-for-each- other, skipping-in-the-valley-with-the-bunnies, happily-ever-after type of couples. The kind of couple-dom most people only dream about. But I was not happy as I could have been.  
I've known Gordo forever. I could name for you everything from his favorite jelly bean flavor (lime) to the way he organizes his socks (dark to light colors; ribbed to smooth). But...well, have you ever read one of those romance novels where the complete opposites get together after about 150 pages of pure hatred? Those are the kinds of books I read late at night when I can't sleep, and I've grown a sort of fetish with them. They also made me think. What if destiny had another thing coming for me?  
"Earth to Lizzie?," Miranda waved her red fingernails in front of me. "Are you with us?" She turned to Gordo. "Houston, we have a problem."  
"I'm fine," I laughed, adoring how quickly the argument dissolved.  
"Taken up a new career as a space cadet? You were late for class too," Gordo commented.  
"Yeah, I guess I'm just not..here today," I replied, grabbing my purse and standing up. "I'll call you guys later." I planted a quick kiss on Gordo's cheek and hugged Miranda before heading off.  
"Did you know the average person makes 1,040 phones calls a year?," Gordo shouted after me. I heard a familiar "Ow!" as Miranda smacked his arm again. Were things really supposed to be this way?  
"Ouch!," I cried, slamming into something pink and fuzzy. Kate, of course, and her now drenched sleeveless sweater.  
"Oh my god! You bitch!," She cried, dabbing her chest. She took deep breaths. "Seems like you're getting up in my business all the time now, McGuire!"  
"Oh my god, Kate! What happened to your new sweater?," Claire sneered at me, having witnessed the entire thing.  
"McLoser here destroyed it with her stupid flip flops," She replied, staring down at my feet. "Maybe you should get a stroller...then you won't have to walk for yourself!"  
"Back off, Kate," I managed to squeak. Claire let out an I'm-so-much- better-than-you laugh.  
"Ooh, good one, McGuire," She smirked.  
There was something about Claire I would never understand or sympathize with. Even Kate seemed normal at times, but Claire never let her guard down. It was if nothing was there but a cheerleading uniform.  
Bad days come and go. But knowledge stays forever.  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
A/N: Yeah, I don't really like this chapter. I need reviews to inspire me to move on again. Anyway, on to thank yous.  
Caley: YAY!!! A sister back. I'm glad you liked it so far. Lol aren't we all suckers for M/G? Okay, maybe that's just me. Cheers!  
KT the shimmer skank: Not a member of the Shoe Sisterhood, but just as well. I love Kate stories too; she's just such a fabulous character. Glad you like it! Thanks!  
And..that's all. ::sniff:: 


	3. Arguments and Bikinis

I love shopping malls. It's not so much the materialistic desire to breathe in clothes or money or really cute jewelry.. not entirely. It's all the interesting people. You could just sit in the mall forever, observing the little kids pressing their faces against windows, or the old ladies clutching their coupons with the jaws of death, or the snobby 20-something year olds who haven't grown out of their immature need for superiority. Of course, going with Claire implies that I'll make fun of them all, which I do guilt free. But on my own, I feel more..human. When no ones watching me, judging my every action, I can look at these kinds of people with a reasonable amount of respect. I respect them for getting up every day and being themselves.  
It was, of course, Claire who can up with the ingenious idea to go to the mall that Friday.  
"You know," She added, smirking, "Since McGuire ruined your new sweater and all." I didn't really care about the sweater. It was fuzzy and pink and made me look like a giant pink cat. But I didn't tell Claire this, because it was exactly what I would wear normally. I felt my tastes slowly changing that year, but that wasn't part of the "Plan".  
Ah, yes, the "Plan". My big plan for life. Most of it involved lying and cheating, of course, but that was no big deal. Not anymore. Lying, sucking up, it's all one big part of life.  
People are always telling you honesty is the best policy. But seriously. Why do you want people to tell the truth when its not what you want to hear?  
"Ooh, this is cute!," Claire squealed, holding up a tiny bikini. Why we were even in the swim wear section at all, I have no idea. I squirmed uncomfortably, imagining my pudgy thighs bulging out of it.  
"I like this one," I said, holding up a one piece that could clothe an entire country. Claire snorted, but didn't say anything, not wanting to offend me. It wasn't that she cared what I thought. She just didn't want to lose such a great partner.  
"Oh, right, sweaters," She glanced at the rack holding several cardigans. "Um, no... no...no..no.. hell, no; god, where IS everything?!"  
"I think you bought it all last time," I remembered the five bags she carried home last week.  
"Ugh, whatever, let's get out of here," She said in disgust, flinging a cashmere sweater back on the hanger. She smiled suspiciously. "I'd rather check out the lingerie department."  
This was our thing. Hanging around the throngs of thongs, making fun of the women shuffling around the section. It made me grateful I was me and they were..them.  
"Whatever," I shrugged, not enthusiastic about anything that would show my stomach. We headed in that general direction, flipping our hair and giggling loudly about nothing in particular. We just wanted to piss people off.  
"Oh my god, look at that WOMAN," Claire chuckled. "Or is that a man buying that thing?" I eyed the heavy woman. Was it just me, or was her hair like mine? I stared at her silky curls...then her love handles. It's the future me, I thought lazily.  
"Hello, Kate?," Claire waved her French manicured hand in front of my face. "It was like, a JOKE? Ha, ha?" I gave out a weak guffaw, looking at the woman's ankles. Only a few rare people can laugh at themselves.  
"What's with you today?," She questioned, pushing through a rack of bras mindlessly. "You didn't even comment on my fourth period accessory change!" I didn't give two shits about her accessories.  
"Maybe the world doesn't revolve around you," I snapped. She laughed at this. Laughed at the thought of other people in the world.  
"Since when did you become the little Christian girl?," Claire snorted.  
"Look, Claire, I don't need you, so just...shut up!," I cried for lack of insults.  
"You know what? Forget it. Forget I ever said anything," She backed off. Of course. This is how our relationship works. We both think we're in charge all the time, but it really does switch occasionally. Claire needed me to be popular. As long as I was strong enough to over rule her, she wouldn't stand up to me... normally.  
I felt the tension grow more and more between us as we left the mall. Was it possible Claire was growing more independent? And if so, what am I going to do?  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
A/N: Yeah, I only liked parts of this chapter. That's good, isn't it? Anyway, for my lovies who haven't caught on (Heh, Heh, Heh) The point of view changes every chapter. First it's Kate, then it's Lizzie, then it's Kate, then it's Lizzie, and so on and so forth. Thank you to:  
See the light: Is there going to be any romance...BWA HA. Do I have any other kind? Well, yes, actually, I don't usually have a full on romance, because it might make me vomit, but it will have an undertone of romance, POSSIBLY. Secluded and Obscured is definitely my favorite fic to write, though it's not that good. Thanks, and I'll post ASAP.  
Nahima Tala: hey, old Faithful! What's up? Only my favorite boot would get away with not e-mailing me ::sniff::. Anyway, I know it's different. I guess I'm more of a Miranda-writer than a Kate-writer...I'm definitely not a Lizzie-writer, as you can see. Well, kisses of course, you.. Um, thing. SHOE.  
Caley: Ah, one of my own. Yes, there is a connection; Secluded and Obscured it kind of the centerpiece of plot. This is like, before when the trio were still tight and Lizzie and Kate weren't friends. It's like a view of how it happened. Snow on spring break?! Crazy child.  
PinkPrincess: YAY!!! I CAPTURED SOMETHING!!! And it wasn't even a butterfly. Well, in theory, Lizzie could be a butterfly...you know, I'm going to stop blabbing on about freedom and such; how are you? I love Kate stories too. Some of the best stories are Kate stories. Thank you!!!  
Back to chaos: Glad you like it. That's the whole point!! Thanks MUCHO for reviewing!!!!  
Alastar-person-who-informed-me-and-hates-toe-socks: oh, it's you. I LOVE YOU. Not because you diss toe socks, for course, but because you reviewed!!! YAY! And that's YOUR title I made for YOU. No trade backs!!! Kisses all around.  
Lizsponge92: Thank you!!! Kate stories, fun!!!! It's great too, thank you ::dances because that rhymes::. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, and I'll try to keep it up.  
Jessie: GASP. NEVER READ A M/G STORY??? ARE YOU INSANE??? Quick, someone get this girl an M/G story, quick! Look on my favorites list or read Secluded and Obscured, if you want. Thank you MUCHO for the review!!!!!  
KT the shimmer skank: You have a really spiffy vocabulary. I especially like it when it is reviewing me. Oh, right, anyway, thank you!! I was hoping to attempt to portray Lizzie well, and I'm glad someone approves! Thanks bunches!  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
Disclaimer: Let's see...me...own..Lizzie..no! No Lizzie! NO! I do, however, own a smashing dirty yellow sock, now on sale on ebay for a mere $100,000.45! So far.. 


	4. Alarm Clocks and Invites

Only an alarm clock could make someone so miserable.  
"Ugh, Mom, just five more minutes!," I groaned, hiding myself under a fluffy pink pillow. But the bell kept ringing. How inhumane!  
"Duh, Lizzie," I mentally hit my forehead. "It's METAL." I let my hand creep out from under the soft covers to hit the stupid thing.  
I tried to remember why I was so upset. Oh, right. My worst enemy is hurting herself and I care. This said enemy also made me out as the biggest klutz in the world yesterday. And now... it's Saturday and I have to get up. This SUCKS.  
"Lizzie, you're meeting Miranda in fifteen minutes!!! Get up!," I heard a voice call. Oh, great. Now I remember why I have to wake up! Letting out a squeal as I jumped out of bed, I rushed around, looking for clothes. I pressed the PLAY button on my stereo, letting Britney's voice pour out of the small speakers. Motivation, of course.  
Getting ready requires a lot of time, I have learned. Looking..presentable everyday grows harder and harder as the world turns. As someone who thinks of Seventeen magazine as the bible, I know this. It's so shallow, and yet...fun. I mean, we could all be like Gordo and care about politics and stuff like that, if we really wanted to. But there's something...exciting about the ability to change what you look like.  
When I look in the mirror in the morning, before I even put on my make up, I see Lizzie McGuire. The real one. She's pretty enough, but not at a model standard. Then, with a dab of lip gloss, I'm on my way to becoming class hottie. I felt a sick twisting of my stomach as I thought this is probably what Kate thinks. I know that image is really important today. I didn't like to think of myself as a victim or whatever from such an odd killer. But only in my reflection do I know I am.  
"Come in," I said as the door opened. Miranda flopped on my bed without a greeting. "Hello to you too."  
"You will not believe what is going on," Miranda said in a low voice.  
"What?," I questioned, painstakingly putting on mascara.  
"Claire Miller is having a party," Miranda said with an undertone of excitement. "And inviting us." I stared at her blankly, leaving the mascara wand poised in my hand. Why on earth would CLAIRE invite us to a party? CLAIRE, who spilled paint on my Keds in second grade and made me cry; CLAIRE, who tripped me in the halls almost every day of my life; CLAIRE, who ten minutes ago thought we were losers. There MUST be a mistake.  
"Um.what?!," I sat on the bed next to her, feeling her forehead. "Are you okay? I think you're hallucinating." She shook her head quickly.  
"It's true!," She cried, handing me a piece of paper with swirling handwriting.  
Hey Sanchez,  
Party at my house tonight. Sorry about short notice; been busy. 7:30. be on time. Take McGuire and Gordon too.  
~ Claire Miller.  
"She slipped it under my door this morning; I saw her do it while she was jogging," Miranda's eyes were wide. "Lizzie...our first high school party..." We squealed together.  
"Gordo's not going to be this excited, is he?," I laughed.  
"Well, too bad for him, because he has to take you," She gave me a small smile. "Or both of us, really, because I don't have a date." Your lucky, I thought to myself.  
"What am I going to wear?," I shrieked, rushing to the closet. I felt a slight air-headed feeling, but I ignored it. Just another "blonde moment".  
That was something I hated. I always made fun of Kate for being an air-headed, shallow shop-a-holic who has nothing better to do than put people down. And yet, I find myself doing nearly the exact same thing (except putting people down; that's just horrible). Having common ground with Kate Sanders is definitely not on my to do list.  
"That's a great top," Miranda commented as I pulled something out of the closet. "It brings out the color in your eyes."  
"I guess," I said, a sudden feeling sinking into me. "Miranda, how come we haven't heard about this party around school? Claire's parties are, like, huge."  
"Maybe she just planned it," Miranda shrugged. I gave her a Look. "It could happen!"  
"I just have a bad feeling about this," I bit my lip. "I mean, how embarrassing would it be to go up to Claire's house, all dressed up, and no one's there or something?"  
"Yeah," Miranda replied slowly.  
"I just don't know," I sighed.  
"I think it's worth the risk."  
"You think everything's worth the risk."  
"That's not true," She said quietly.  
"I guess we could go," I sighed. And there began a horrible day.  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
A/N: Okay, not a lot of people to thank once again.  
Caley: Whack. I whack your head, woman! Not really, because then you couldn't review and THEN who would?? The sisterhood needs you, my flip flop. You're a smart cookie (shoe) for connecting it. MUCHO love, MUCHO.  
See the light: Heh. You. My compliment-or person. Thank you bunches!!! I'm not saying anything about your hunch ;). 


	5. Diners and Reflections

"Wouldn't it be funny to invite McGuire and Sanchez?" That's the first thing she said when I picked up the phone.  
"To what?," I snapped, still nipped with bitterness.  
"My parents left this morning; my grandmother is dying or something," Claire said carelessly.  
"I'm still not following, Claire," I flipped through the TV channels lazily. I decided today was my vacation away from it all. This brought me in front of the tube, sporting an avocado face masque and bingeing on potato chips. Soon to be thrown up, of course. Some things you never vacation from.  
"I'm having a party tonight," She replied, as if it was obvious.  
"Why?," I questioned. Of course it was clear. Why NOT have a party? High school was (for us) all about having has many parties as possible.  
"Katie, don't be a dumb ass," She said witheringly. "Come on. come over at 6 and we can set up. It'll be fun."  
"Why don't you ask Ethan?," I said bitterly. "You seem pretty hot to trot with HIM." Ethan and I weren't on best terms at that moment.  
Ethan did have a childish stupidity to him, which made him perfectly attainable, just.. annoying as hell. It came to the point where a popular boyfriend wasn't worth having to practically baby-sit your boyfriend. McGuire could have him, for all I cared... well, of course, I didn't want her to; that would make her way too happy.  
I'm not quite sure why I like to make Lizzie miserable so much. She's a perfectly nice person; in fact, I once was friends with her. So what happened?  
"Oh, Katie," She sighed, sounding almost like a friend. "What kind of loser dates her best friend's ex?"  
"I guess your right," I sighed too. "I'll be there."  
"Good. See you, girlfriend." I listened to the dial tone as "Three's Company" came on TV.  
I wish my life was like an old TV show. Every problem solved within 30 minutes, only with the occasional to be continued. Everyone's attractive, and if they're not, they at least are funny and get some.  
I felt my powdery green face. It felt stiff. I hated the powdery feeling. I could only feel my body heat under the shield of green. It was the same feeling with my foundation. I loved to wash all my make up off and feel real skin.  
The water was cool against my skin. I gently splashed the crystal droplets on my face, the green washing off onto the rough terry cloth. I looked in the mirror.  
In my reflection, all I could see was me. There was no blush, there was no powder, there was no lip stick or mascara or eye shadow. There was only a sixteen year old girl, terrified of what was to become. I dried my face and looked at her more closely. She wasn't beautiful. Not beautiful enough.  
I grabbed my make up bag furiously off of the floor and began to painstakingly apply it. There was something wrong about not being transformed into some fairy princess. Or rather, a fashion model.  
"Hey, honey," I almost stuck the mascara wand into my eye from shock. I turned to see my mother leaning in the powder room doorway. What was SHE doing back?  
"M-Mom?," I tried to act like it was no big deal. Like I didn't care. But I loved my mother so much.  
My mother is a very spontaneous person. She's a sort of..butterfly, you might say. Around other people, she wears elegant clothing and dines on French cuisine and white wine. But around us, she's so..FREE. She wears jeans and T-shirts and her laugh and smile are so REAL. I almost hated her from envy. Beautiful and true.  
  
"Daddy is still in Tahiti," She smiled sadly. "Business is booming. Anyway, they didn't need the little housewife along, so I thought I'd come back and see how my girl was doing all alone." She wrapped her arms around me and my heart melted. No use giving her a guilt trip. I had no power over my mother, as much as I wanted it.  
"So, anyway, I was think maybe we could go out to lunch," She smiled. Lunch. With my mother. Wow.  
"Um.," I found myself trying to find an excuse. Why? It's what I wanted, wasn't it?  
I always got what I wanted. That's just how life started to work. It was around seventh grade that I started a new fixation with being spoiled to the core. My parents started traveling around that time too. A lot of things happened in seventh grade... a lot of firsts that are important for a girl of my stature. My first kiss, my first bra, my first perm.. That type of thing.  
Lunch. That was it. Lunch involved eating. Eating food in front of my mother. Eating a LOT of food in front of my mother. Eating a lot of food and running to the bathroom to throw up..in front of my mother.  
"Katie, come on," She pecked my nose. "It'll be fun." Fun. Ha. Sure.  
"Why not?," I smiled my glorious fake smile. I can think of five reasons right now.  
"I'm starving," She grabbed my arm. "Let's take the convertible." Of course, we had options. I always had options.  
Wind combed our hair as we rushed down the street. Well, combed her hair rather; mine stayed stiff with mousse (A/N: Is it moose with hair stuff, or mousse? Oh, well). That's how her hair worked. Combed with salty sea air in waving grace. She was trapped, like me; trapped into this materialistic view point. And yet, she was different. She let herself see the real her. The lip gloss seemed to have gone to my head. My reflection was no longer me.  
Not that I mind. The real me, the weak, scrawny thing, would never do the things I get away with. The Real Kate would never scratch a girl's make up off. The Real Kate would never throw up her food. The Real Kate would never leave her friends to die in social lowliness.  
"How about here?," Mom yelled over the rushing winds as we pulled into a diner parking lot. I stared at her blankly. It was a big silver..BOX. Not exactly classy. Not exactly the place I would be found with my MOTHER. Oh well.  
A bell jingled as we strolled in, looking like goddesses compared the locals.  
I didn't enjoy going into the public with my mother alone. Everyone thought we were sisters. Yes, she was the gorgeous older, more natural sister. I looked like I had been attacked by paint. Besides, I don't like being the less attractive one. Sure, flock with beautiful people, but always be the most beautiful of them all.  
"Hello there," A 20-something guy grinned at us from his dorky uniform that he was swimming in. "May I seat you?" May I kick your shins? I found a great dislike to him immediately.  
The moment I meet someone, I make my grand judgment. You can tell much of a person just by the way they present themselves the moment you meet them. They way they speak, the expression on their face; it's all a big charade.  
"Isn't this night, honey?," Mom asked excitedly, sliding into a red cushioned booth. I nodded, but didn't mean it. A cheap little diner wasn't exactly a field day for me.  
"What can I get for you, ladies?," The annoying guy returned with a huge smile painted on his face a few minutes later. I noticed he had a little tasteless hat glued to his head. It looked like a hot dog bun or something. I smiled silently and cruelly up at him. His smile faded slightly.  
People are often intimidated by me. I have this sort of aura of power about me, dominating and stepping on those who deserve it. Weak ones. There's something very irritating (and yet amusing) about people who are so humble and meek. It's almost fascinating, those people who put others before them. Don't they realize their human? Don't they know that deep down all we really want is stuff for ourselves? Obviously not.  
"I'll have.. A chocolate milkshake, a burger, a side of onion rings, a side of fries, and um.. A cup of clam chowder," I said decidedly. Mom stared at me blankly. I don't even like clam chowder. "Does that come with a salad? Great." I rolled my eyes at him as I handed him the menu. "Yeah, bye."  
"I think we'll have to take some of that home," Mom laughed. She was obviously shrugging it off as a teenager thing.  
"Yeah," I said quietly, close to spilling my guts. I stared at my place mat in utter loneliness. I wondered what brought this sudden emotion, but I shrugged it off.  
A milkshake, a burger, a side of onion rings and fries, two cups of clam chowder and a salad later, my stomach started to rebel. I gripped my abdomen tightly, feeling the familiar rising feeling.  
"I have to use the ladies' room," I said to my mom in my most cheerful voice, hoping I could contain myself a few moments more. My heels clicked on the linoleum once again as I pushed into a cubicle. Shoving my perfectly manicured finger down my throat, the unpleasant feeling rushed towards me, gagging and regretting. I always regret. But I just flush it down. I leaned my blonde curls against the cubicle wall and listened for anyone coming. I felt a sort of empty feeling in my stomach now, but not from the food.  
My heart always broke (though I'll never admit it) when I watched people try to fill their lives with food. That empty feeling you mistake for hunger comes so often now, I've given up. Kate Sanders NEVER gives up. She pokes and shoves and pushes and kills until she gets her way. You can't give up now!  
But I did. I gave up my life. I gave up my life to the toilet.  
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A/N: Eh, I'm too lazy to thank you all. Who really cares what Author's Notes say anyway? Everyone hates them. It's like "GET TO THE STORY!!!" but too bad for you. I like talking your ear off and taking forever to update. Not. Love you all, kisses, yeah. 


	6. Dancing and Beer

A/N: Warning-this chapter may include excessive alcohol. Nothing major, but you have been warned.  
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I didn't know I could feel so many emotions all at once. Excitement, nervousness, and then something else.. Something I couldn't put my finger on.  
"You look great, Lizzie!," Miranda exclaimed. She welcomed me with a warm hug, looking down at my dress almost in envy.  
"You look beautiful, too," I said quietly. And she did. Beautiful in such a Miranda way. It was nights like these that made me happy to have my life. The dark sky, the excited chatter.. I felt an adrenaline rush, like the ones they describe in really deep rock songs that you crank when no one can hear you.  
I wanted to trust Claire's invitation, despite it's strange packing. I'm normally a very trusting person. But there's something so wrong with the whole situation.. I didn't have time to think. We stopped in front of Gordo's house.  
I smiled and squeezed his hand as he slid into the car, but mostly for comfort. My relationship with Gordo was indescribable. Not so much love as for show. But the thing was.. We weren't on display for anyone.  
There was the emotion again. The one I couldn't figure out. It was like.. Showing affection to a relative you've never seen before. You want to love them, but you can't figure out why. Only I knew why I wanted to love Gordo. He was a wonderful person! He deserved anything he wanted. I just prayed he didn't want me.  
We pulled up to Claire's house. It was fairly..huge. I vaguely tried to remember her family situation. I knew her mom, and she was pretty nice. Her dad, as I recalled, was the owner of the house. Her parents were divorced, right? Yes, that's it. She had a stepmother and one half sister. I loosely remembered a very tall, pretty woman with an adorable baby. Figures Claire would have a perfect stepfamily too.  
You kids have fun!," Mom squeezed my knee. I rolled my eyes and climbed out. Sure, mom.  
Why I was allowed to go, I'm not so sure. I had a feeling she thought Claire's mom would be chaperoning. They were fairly good friends. Too bad she was wrong.  
"Well," Gordo said, looking up at the house, "Yet another opportunity to study the flocking habits of the hormonal adolescent." He shook his head sadly. I laughed. Not that I knew what that meant. It just seemed a good place to laugh.  
"Oh, hey, guys," Claire welcomed us almost pleasantly. I peered over her shoulder. There was definitely a party going on, that's for sure. The house was warm with yellow light, people were dancing, laughing, talking, being loud... some were even drinking and smoking. I felt immediately uncomfortable. Guys with bulging muscles stumbled around idiotically, puffing cigarettes and chugging beer. Gordo just made noises of disapproval while Miranda shrugged it off. I felt paranoid, just waiting for some jock to rape me in my little corner.  
"Hey, why don't you guys dance?," Miranda nudged Gordo, noticing how uncomfortable I was. I gave her a grateful glance, but hesitated.  
"I don't want to leave you here all alone.."  
"Oh, it's okay," She smiled, waving her hand. "I'll be fine." I bit my lip. "Really. I'll go... mingle." She picked a chip out of a bowl. "I'll munch. I'll be.. Cool." She gestured with her hands.  
"If you're sure..," I moved onto the dance floor with Gordo. I felt stupid, swaying on nothing but wall to wall beige carpeting.  
"Watch out!," Kate cried as she stumbled into us. Claire, watching nearby like a hawk, rushed over.  
"Surprise, surprise.. Graceful McGuire causes the trouble first," She smirked at me. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"  
"You invited me," I said, collecting my bravery.  
"Yeah, because I felt sorry for you," She rolled her eyes. "Now I wonder why I even bother being so charitable." I felt anger boil beneath my skin.  
"Hey, Claire, give the lady a break," A guy stumbled towards us, putting his arm around Claire's small shoulders. I felt Gordo's hand tighten protectively around my wrist. He smiled at me. I smiled back slightly, feeling a bit light headed. It was nice to have a knight in shining armor, even if I couldn't date him.  
"For you, Daniel," She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. I felt a pang of jealously as she pulled him away. I stared after him.  
"There's this theory," Gordo suddenly said, "That boyfriends disappear occasionally in the middle of conversation. Or, you know, they could be IGNORED.." I felt horrible all of a sudden.  
"Oh, Gordo, I'm sorry!," I hit my head. "Distracted.. You know, Claire.."  
"And Daniel.." Gordo's no idiot.  
"Let's dance," I replied.  
I want to be one of those people who go to parties and remain carefree through the entire thing. This may be from being high and drunk the entire time, but still. It was times like these that made drugs and alcohol so appealing.  
I watched Daniel over Gordo's shoulder for a long time. I soon just used him as a sort of support pillow, nuzzling into his shoulder. He wasn't so short, I thought lazily.  
Then I watched Miranda. She looked so fabulous, dancing with all those guys and being so.. Eligible. I was happy to have such a fortunate best friend.  
Then I just closed my eyes. It felt like we had been dancing forever. Gordo doesn't usually dance. He's not a dancing kind of guy.  
I thought about Kate. I wondered if maybe I was wrong. I'm wrong about a lot of things, right? Maybe I didn't need to help her.  
"Let's sit down," I pulled away from Gordo, feeling sleepily relaxed. So relaxed for someone at such a big party. I flopped on the couch next to some guy Miranda had been talking to. She walked over to us and smiled.  
"Having fun?," She questioned us.  
"Loads," Gordo answered sarcastically before I had a chance to reply. I felt crushed for some odd reason. Miranda hit Gordo on the arm.  
"Lizzie?"  
"I WAS having fun," I said, glancing at him.  
"Gordo, dance with me," Miranda said, holding at her hand. He sighed. "Come on.. Two girls ask you to dance! We'll turn you into a ladies' man yet." I resisted glaring at Miranda. She WAS trying to help. Did I even care if Gordo liked me? Of course. Right?  
With persuasion, Gordo was reluctantly dragged away by a persistent Miranda. I, on the other hand, watched people mill about, acting like idiots. I felt sorry for them, picturing them waking up tomorrow morning full of regret.  
"This seat taken?," Daniel towered above me. I smiled up at him, assuring him it wasn't. He sat down next to me. My heart stopped fluttering as I noticed a brown bottle in his hand. "Lizzie, right?"  
"Yeah, that's me, Lizzie. Oh, hey! That rhymes!," I laughed. Stupid!  
"Hey, that's funny. So, anyway, you go to school with Claire?," He asked, taking a sip from the bottle.  
"Yeah," I laughed again. Wow, I was witty tonight.  
"I'm her brother's friend," He nodded. Claire had a brother? "He plays football for the high school. Did you hear he's getting married? Oh, duh, of course. Must be all the little freshmen gossip." Oh, sure. Right. I wasn't out of it. No.  
"Yeah, well." Great going, McGuire.  
"So, um, want a drink or something?," He questioned. I froze. NO! Of COURSE I don't want a stupid drink. I'm under aged!  
"Sure," I smiled. NO. He got up momentarily, and came back with another brown bottle. Great. I stared into the frosty glass, unable to see past it into the beer. It was cold in my hands. I wanted to throw it against the wall and scream. Daniel was slowly becoming less and less attractive. But I couldn't back out now.  
I took a shaky sip and sputtered. The taste was indescribable. It was cold and reminded me immediately of dirt. I had always pictured beer like flat root beer. I tenderly placed the bottle down.  
"Don't you like it?," He asked almost teasingly. I stared at him blankly. How could I lie?  
"Uh, no," I stood up. "I'm not a beer kind of girl, thanks a lot." I stormed off huffily. Parties aren't supposed to change your perspective. Parties are supposed to be fun.  
I stood outside, my arms crossed. I felt tears on my cheeks and wondered why. Why was I crying? Did I really have a reason?  
I was sick of it all. I was sick of being good girl McGuire, who never drank or did drugs or even thought about sex. But I wasn't about to go and change that. I tried that before, and it definitely didn't work. I laughed bitterly at the memory.  
I stared down at my nail polish for a while, just thinking. It was pink and shiny and perfect. That was pretty much Lizzie for you. Every day, the world ended for my small problems, and then it began again. Why?  
"Not such a great party?," Miranda leaned against the brick wall next to me.  
"No," I sniffled, a breeze running against my hot face.  
"I can call my mom, if you want," She offered. "This party isn't so great..."  
"Hey Miranda! Want to dance?," A voice from inside. My heart fell.  
"Go on," I gave her a watery smile. "Don't let them down."  
"No, let's go," She beckoned me on. "Let's get Gordo." She grabbed my hand pulled me along through the groups of teenagers. They jumped around and acted completely drunk. Well they WERE drunk. I wasn't as scared as I was before, having Miranda's hand to guide me, but I still didn't want to reek of beer. Plus, this was a new dress!  
We found Gordo talking to a few people. They were discussing some class. I was immediately disinterested. I just wanted to get home. I felt a sudden surge of panic when I saw Daniel. I hid behind Miranda.  
Eventually, we dragged Gordo home. I looked back at Claire's house with an empty, ringing feeling. I wondered why I wasn't brave. And then I wondered why I cared.  
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A/N: I have to catch up now. Okay, let's get started before I grow old.  
Alastar: YAY! MY TITLE! I'll try to review every chapter. I become busy, so I might not review right away. But thank you for your reviews! I appreciate it. Love you!  
Nahima Tala: Hey sister!!! Good to hear from you. I'm happy to get a review from you! I'm glad you like it so far. I need your approval, don't you know. Kisses and thank you!  
PinkPrincess: Hello my dear. I definitely liked those parts too. I only like parts of my stories, don't you know, and you picked out two of the best. I hope I portrayed them well. That was my goal. Anyway, thanks bunches!  
Lizsponge92: Thanks!!! We all have our little blonde moments, dear, but hopefully they don't come up that often!! Thanks again. Kisses.  
See the light: I'll try to update Senescent. Not a lot of excess inspiration on that. I updated!! Kate's mom is supposed to leave her alone all the time, but I wanted to make her nicer than she usually is. Maybe she is just trapped. Thanks bunches!  
Love-fool: Amy, Amy, Amy... I was worried! I thought you died or something! Well, not really, but I was hoping for this review. Happy Birthday!!! Happy.. Late birthday? Oh, well. INSPIRATION! I read your story. I like it definitely. Thank you bunches!  
Diva: Dude... you just like reviewed five times! YOU'RE SPECIAL!! Most people take at least two author notes to become a sister. Oh well. ::clears throat:: ahem. I, the funky one, now proclaim Diva as..GROOVY RED PLATFORM!!!!!! YAY!!! ::everyone claps:: I love the way you review, pointing out the sections you liked and why you liked them. Cheers, mate!!  
LenniluvsBrian: Thanks! I checked your story out..pretty good! I reviewed too. Hugs and kisses! Thanks again. 


	7. Ruined Sweaters and Wrecked Hearts

I hate Claire's parents. She hates them too.  
It's not so much her mom. She's a very nice woman; all housewife-y and motherly; I've always liked that. But Claire doesn't live with her mom. She lives with her dad and stepmother.  
Claire's dad is one of those weird parents who are fakely open to their kids; you know, telling them things they don't want to know like where the kid was conceived and what kind of birth control they use.  
As for her stepmother..... let's just say her IQ isn't much higher than a vegetables. She's a model or a secretary or something you expect beautiful women to be. No, not a secretary; requires too much brain power.  
So you can imagine how much more willing I was to enter Claire's house with them gone.  
"Okay, major problem," She said. "Which lip gloss.. Peachy Keen or Mango Madness? Which lasts longer? Which looks better? Try some on.. If you were a guy, would you rather taste mango or peach?"  
"If your biggest problem is which lip gloss to wear, I'd like to be you," I found myself saying, flopping on her couch. She just stared at me. I sighed. "Whatever. Okay, I vote Mango Madness. It's more mysterious and exotic." She seemed satisfied with this, quickly glossing her lips.  
"Are you going to wear THAT?," Claire smirked. She eyed my jeans, pink T-shirt, and new sweater (around my waist). I had forgotten I was wearing them. I was caught on stage without my costume. A big no-no. Shit.  
"No," I said as snottily as possible. "I just didn't want to ruin my good clothes by walking." What a horrible lie. I was slipping up.  
"Well, you can borrow something of mine, I guess," She sighed as if it was the biggest inconvenience. "There's no time for you to go home before the party." She didn't seem to notice the lapse of logic I had just had. Luckily, Claire isn't the quickest one to catch on at times.  
"Did you have dinner yet?," She questioned. "I ordered like two vegetarian pizzas by accident. Well, I kind of meant to; the delivery guy was really cute and we started talking.." I zoned out on Claire's ranting.  
Something was troubling me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Well, naturally, the usual thing (my stomach rumbled at this thought), but there was a new feeling of depression towards something.  
"God, I feel horrible," She said, clutching her stomach. I said nothing. "I think I'm getting sick or something. I've felt really queasy for the last couple days." She gasped. "What if I'm sick for the game? I have to sit in the stands and cheer the guys on!" She pouted, sitting down next to me. "I can't believe you made cheerleader and I didn't."  
"I believe it," I snapped. I wasn't interested in Claire and her petty non-existent illness. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it quickly. You can't fight with your best friend right before a party. You need someone to survey the room with.  
"You know, this is like the first party in a while we both don't have boyfriends," She commented. I paused at this. Kate Sanders, boyfriend less. It just wasn't right. I made a mental note to start looking again. "Ethan's going to be there."  
I didn't really give a flying fuck about Ethan being there. He was so oblivious, he probably wouldn't notice.  
Oh, god, what have I done?  
~@~  
"Hey, guys," I greeted some seniors with a plastic smile. "What's going on?"  
Claire's older brother was completely useful sometimes. He was a jock who is a complete idiot, but he had amazing popularity status. He, of course, was out with his fiancée. Having one was definitely proving his stupidity.  
I glanced at Claire, who was pouring chips a huge bowl. I shot daggers at her as she started eating them. I wasn't going to let my best friend look like a retard at her own party. It would look really bad on my behalf.  
I smoothed my blue skirt. Well, Claire's blue skirt. I marveled at the way it made my legs look. I almost didn't look fat.  
I smirked as Lizzie McGuire, Miranda Sanchez, and David Gordon walked into the house. Lizzie looked nervous, Miranda looked excited, and Gordo looked none of the above. It was the perfect opportunity to show off. Unfortunately, the opportunity passed quickly.  
"Ouch!," I cried, knocking into someone. My new sweater was now soaking. Two new sweaters corrupted in the same week? How? "Watch it-"  
I gulped, realizing it was Ethan holding the guilty plastic cup. Lizzie and Ethan had more in common than they knew.  
I prepared a snide comment, but it faltered. There's something.. A certain kind of energy that comes from him that just makes it impossible to put him down. His dumb innocence made him untouchable. Or maybe it was the hair.  
Whatever it was, it even effected me, the unbreakable. Why didn't I keep him again? Was the very reason I was attracted to him repel me?  
All right, attracted isn't the word. My knees haven't weakened at his beauty in many a year. I was more attracted to his status, and the power that came with that.  
And yet I stood there, dripping wet, trying to figure out what to say. Be cruel; he's not your boyfriend anymore. No, be nice; he's still popular; being friends would help.  
Before I could say anything, a brunette with fish nets on slithered over, putting her arm through Ethan's arm. How tacky.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kate," Ethan said apologetically. I smiled weakly into his brown eyes and shook my head suddenly. This wasn't the Kate Sanders everyone knew and.. Some loved.  
"Oh, Ethan, who's your friend?," I said snottily, my eyes flicking towards her legs. She gave me a up and down look of disgust. Bitch.  
"Oh, Kate, this is Katie," Ethan paused for a moment thinking. "Hey, that's funny! Kate, Katie! Ha, I get it!" We both gave Ethan a Look.  
"Nice to meet you, Kate," She held out her hand. I detected her subtle sarcasm. I didn't take her hand.  
"Can't say I'm as pleased as you," I said coolly. She dropped her hand to her side and frowned, still not replying to my negative tone. I suppose it was for the sake of Ethan. I couldn't stand it much longer. "Excuse me, I have to go wash off." My sweater reeked of beer strongly.  
"Sorry again," Ethan called after me. I bet you are sorry.  
I descended up Claire's stairs gracefully, drawing attention to the fact I was so much better than them. Not for a particular reason, I just was. Right?  
If you aren't the best, at least appear to be.  
I stumbled less-than-gracefully into the sparkling white bathroom and uselessly patted the wet spot with a towel. Only an ex can make you so miserable when your potential lover could be out there.  
But Kate Sanders doesn't give up popularity. There is nothing more important to her than that... is there?  
"Kate!," Claire entered the bathroom. "There you are! God, Justin called me a whore-"  
"Maybe he was right," I snapped, annoyed at my sanctuary's interruption.  
"What is WITH you lately?," She cried.  
"What's with YOU?," I screamed back, pushing past her.  
I hate Ethan. I hate Claire. I hate Katie. I hate this party. I hate this house. And I hate Lizzie McGuire. I froze at the randomness of this thought. It was a little unnerving, having your ex-best friend's name just pop into your head.  
I knew why I hated her, though. She was perfect and she didn't even realize it. She envies my popularity and social status.. I find this bitterly laughable. I pictured Lizzie knowing how insecure I was. Oh, wait, she did know.  
I felt my nails dig into my palm as I wondered if she told anyone. She'd die. She would completely and utterly die if she told. There was no other option. She'd die. Socially, at least. Lizzie McGuire would socially die if I did.  
It was a radical concept. I can step on you, and you, and you, and you if you even TRY to step on me. I am bigger, I am the best, I don't care what you think.  
Right?  
The rest of the night was spent by the snack table. I shoved a handful of chips in my mouth hungrily as I watched everyone dance and drink and get high. How I wanted to be with them. But there was something stopping me. This weird force.  
Claire hovered nearby, grabbing the occasional handful and glaring at me.  
"What, do you have PMS or something?," I snarled after her fifteenth trip. We never eat like this. Well, not in public.  
"No," She said, her voice quivering. I tried not to smile so victoriously. I felt bad for her, I did. But I can't let myself down from my pedestal long enough to console someone I'm just going to be fighting with again next week. Humanity has died and gone to hell. 


	8. Potato Chips and Wonderment

A/N: ::blinks excessively:: I forgot Author Note's in the last chapter. Sorry.. I think after I post the chapter AFTER this, I'll just have one chapter devoted to author notes. Thanks to all who reviewed!  
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Miranda declared it Our Day once we got back from the party.  
The girl developed this habit of being able to read me really well. She was pretty good at identify it before, but now it was...what's the word? Uncanny.  
"Go ahead, spill," Miranda munched on a Dorito as we sat Indian style on her bed. I sighed, as I had hoped she wouldn't remember. If only we could continue to flip through YM, discussing Josh Hartnett's eyes or a really cute pink dress. But no. Our Day wasn't about that; not really. It was about spilling our hearts out while stuffing our faces. I had mixed feelings about Our Day.  
"There was this guy," I began, a sudden feeling of déjà vu. How many bad sentences started with that..  
"Daniel," She more stated than asked.  
"Yeah. Well, he kind of... he kind of got me a beer," I said, trying to sound casual. "And I kind of tried it.. And then I realized what I was doing, and that I was insane, and that I would NEVER drink. I mean, Lizzie McGuire doesn't drink! ESPECIALLY for a guy."  
"So what did you do?," She asked, hanging on my every word. I closed my eyes.  
"I-. I just left him," I stuttered. We were quiet for a few minutes, the silence filled only buy the occasional Twinky wrapper.  
"I didn't really like him," I admitted after a while. "I guess I just.. I'm just.. I just can't.."  
"This is about Gordo, isn't it?," She asked quietly. I sighed.  
"I don't know what to do!," I groaned, leaning my head on her shoulder. She patted it absentmindedly, lost in thought. "What SHOULD I do?"  
"It's hard," She confessed. "I'm not sure, really.. I mean, I don't want YOU to get hurt, but I don't want Gordo to get hurt either!" She sighed. "Do you want me to ask him if he.. If he still feelings the same way about you?" I nodded immediately, not sure if I really wanted this information.  
There's something unbelievably confusing about Gordo. He likes to think of himself as...not human. Like he's some kind of superhuman that is above worrying about what other people think, and material things, and getting your hair cut. Sometimes I feel like I'm just not good enough for him. He tells me I'm perfect, and then he yells at me for being a girl. I just don't know what I can do right anymore.  
"Miranda," I said slowly, "How do you understand Gordo?" She laughed and looked away, gazing out the window. It was fairly sunny, so the shine gently grazed her cheek.  
"I don't," She said finally, "But I make a point to try." I crunched on a chip thoughtfully, absorbing this new concept.  
I noticed how Miranda's voice got when the subject of Gordo came up. Maybe I was going on girlfriend paranoia, but I had the oddest feeling she was developing a crush on him.  
I don't know why it even mattered. I didn't mind someone liking Gordo; in fact, I encouraged them. But there was something about the fact it was Miranda made my blood boil under my skin.  
I admit, outshining Miranda went from accidental habit to fixation. I loved Miranda, I really did, but it felt like, for once, I could get noticed more than someone.  
No one really notices Miranda. She's this amazing person, but somehow the blondes always win. I wish that I could share the spotlight with her, I really do. But, in total honesty, I don't mind getting a LITTLE bit more attention than her. It's horrible, I know, but it's true.  
"What are you thinking about?," She questioned. I dropped my chip guilty.  
"Nothing," I said quickly. She didn't press me to go further, and for that I was grateful.  
"Well," Miranda said finally in the same quiet tone, "I'd better go. I'm baby-sitting Maria... you know, she's going to stay with my aunt for a little while.. Because of.." She quieted. "I'll see you." I stared down at the bag of chips as she left.  
Sometimes I wonder if my problems could be any bigger than a pin point. While they're happening, they seem like a huge deal. But then I think of Miranda and her parents or Gordo and worries and I wonder, why do I even bother?  
I let pop music pour out of my stereo speakers and flopped back. So, maybe I'll be boyfriend-less. Maybe, when I go to parties (I rubbed my head at the thought of the last one) I won't have anyone to dance with all night long. Would that be so bad?  
Yes.  
I had the sudden urge to tell Miranda not to ask. I wondered how long I could go out with Gordo and still put on an act.  
An act. Lizzie McGuire can't act! Lizzie McGuire can't lie! Lizzie McGuire is thinking in third person.  
I sighed and stared at the ceiling. Oh my gosh, why? I punched my pillow, then curled up with it. This sucks. 


	9. Of Mirrors and Images

A/N: This chapter has harsher language than before and some troubling situations dealing with sex and eating disorders. Please take note.  
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I felt the salty sweat run down my peach-colored skin. My muscles bent and pleaded and begged to stop, but I didn't. The heavy, physical weights weren't the only weighing me down. I strained to lift another, a single motivation.  
Perfection.  
The morning light lingered with my sweat, creating a sort of rainbow of skin, salt, and sunlight.  
If you stripped me naked, and cut my skin and bones, this is my core. No make up, no bra, no high heels. Just a little girl, clinging to the rocks. Don't fall, Kate! Don't fall.  
I dropped the weight I was holding deadly, recognizing a faint feeling floating to my head. I let a perspired hand reach out to my drenched forehead. No, we can't stop now. I thought about a slender waist and shapely legs. I thought about tiny wrists and sunken cheekbones. I thought about unpopularity. I must go on.  
After 15 more minutes, I finally let myself stop. Ache lingers over my limbs, but I shrugged it off.  
Cold streams of water fell from the shower head and onto the glowing beads that covered me. I sighed and let a cool puddle of body scrub collect in my palm. I idly swirled the white goo, making intricate designs on my body. I sighed as a rose blossomed onto my leg, then disappeared into the drain. I felt myself wonder what it would be like to be that rose, plummeting downwards. I shook it off instantly and continued to cover my body with the wash.  
After a half hour of beautification, I found myself with no where to go. I vaguely remembered Mom popping her head in my bed room at 6 in the morning, saying something about going for a jog. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 10:30 AM. That's not suspicious in the least. I let a sigh fall between my glossy pink lips and weighed what I could do.  
As a Sanders, I mustn't go through a day without a public appearance. The Sanders aren't homey people. We're roam-ers, challenging ourselves with new social situations we know we can beat. Or at least, that's what we have become.  
I didn't always fit into my family's lifestyle. I was a awkward, scrawny little girl who couldn't make proper pigtails. I didn't understand why my parents were away so often, or why my cousin Amy had to stay with me so often (though she doesn't anymore). I went to Lizzie's house and ate home-made cookies and danced to music that (at the time) we thought was cool. I remember having a big crush on Gordo and being best friends with Lizzie and learning how to bead bracelets from Miranda. I remember the sleepovers with horror movies we couldn't handle and the long bike rides in the rain.  
But image is more important than all of that.. Right? Of course. Kate Sanders doesn't make bad decisions.  
I sighed again. Maybe it was time to call Claire and forgive her for.. whatever. There was nothing else to do.  
I picked up the phone and pressed in her number. I listened to the rings silently, looking around the room. What if she wasn't there? I needed a back-up plan.  
"Hello?" Her voice crackled. I instantly recognized something was wrong, but ignored it.  
"Hey," I said. "What are we doing today?" I heard her sniffle and I rolled my eyes. I wasn't giving her sympathy if she broke a nail.  
"Um.. I don't know," Her voice was full of tears. "Can you just come over? Something's wrong." Well, duh, I thought.  
"Okay," I said brightly. "See you in a few." I hung up on her sniffling goodbye. I grabbed my purse and checked my face in the hall mirror.  
I almost smashed that mirror once.  
My mother loved it to death. It had this beautiful gold frame which she liked to run her fingers down while she brushed her hair. She told me it was a magic mirror.  
It was the next day she went away on a business trip with Daddy. Everyday I looked in the mirror, almost expecting to see her in it. But she wasn't. It was just me in my Tinker bell blush and tutu. I looked scared. It was the first time I thought I looked ugly, and it scared me. I look my tiara and threw it at it, leaving a little crack in the corner. The present baby-sitter found me, and took me away.  
The crack is still there. I don't think my mom ever noticed it, but I still get chills up my spine when I see it.  
I trotted to Claire's in my new high heels, envying the cars that drove by. I wished I had my driver's license.  
I finally approached the iron gates and they swung open instantly. She answered the big door puffy eyed. She looked terrible. I refrained from laughing, feeling a little bit of sympathy.  
"What's the matter?," I asked, almost sounding like I cared. I grabbed my hand and dragged me to the kitchen silently. I sat down at the huge silver counter. I knew she would crack eventually.  
She pushed a piece of leftover pizza at me and sat down across from me with her own. She poked at it very un-lady-like, ripping off the crust and scattering it across her plate.  
"If you won't tell me, I'll just go," I said angrily, losing my patience. She didn't say anything. "God, Claire, what the hell is your problem?" Silent tears ran down her face. I bit into the pizza, giving her the opportunity to tell me.  
"I-I..," She hesitated, and then began again. "D-do you remember when I went out with.. With Colin a couple weeks ago?"  
"Yeah..," I said slowly.  
"Well.. We went to this p-party and-"  
"Ethan's party," I said abruptly, remembering my lack of invite.  
"Yeah," She said, shooting a sympathetic look at me. "Well, anyway, he...well...we kissed...a lot.."  
"So?," I said impatiently.  
"A-and we went to.. A room and..," She let out a breath. "Things got out of hand." I stared at her blankly. "I-I had a little too much to drink and the next morning... I was n-next to him."  
"So," I said slowly, "You're not a virgin anymore." One would expect that of Claire. "Maybe Justin WAS right." Her eyes filled with tars again. I sighed. "What now? You have a STD or something?" Tears started to fall again. "Oh my fucking god, you DO?"  
"No," She whispered. "I might be pregnant." 


	10. Strawberry Smoothies and Cute Couples

I never said I'd love Gordo forever. Did I? Probably in some winded moment, with the stars shining a little too brightly and his fingers brushing a little too softly. There were many like that. Ones that I just felt like I was in a romance novel, and Gordo would show up on a white horse and ride me off into the sunset.  
But Gordo's not much of a romantic. Most of these romantic moments I only enjoy with Miranda, recalling them rather than experiencing them.  
I look back in my old journal filled with pages that are crinkled from tears and smudged with lipstick kisses. And all I can feel is.. Nothing. This kind of hollow ringing. I can't understand it. I'm not into drama. The most I can handle is a small lovers' quarrel that's settled immediately with a simple kiss. I prefer these kinds of things. You know, simple things. It is the kind of life I lead.  
But ever since I discovered Kate's "little secret", I wonder what else is going on with her. I wonder if she's okay. I worry about her. I admit it. I worry about Kate. I mean, she WAS my best friend. Sometimes I think she still is.  
The old Kate still is. The old Kate is still the best friend I'll ever have. I'll never have another friendship like the one I had with her. We didn't just pretend to be sisters; we WERE sisters. Soul sisters. I could understand her perfectly. I don't think our connection ever faded. I can feel her energy and her emotions are so clear sometimes it hurts. You're not supposed to understand your worst rival. There's no sympathy; there's no understanding; there's just hate. Just pure hate.  
I remember one day in fifth grade, Kate gave me a tube of lip gloss for no reason. It tasted horrible and made my lips swell, but I kept it. I still have it, buried into my make-up kit.  
Later that day I found out her dad had yelled at her until she locked herself in a closet the night before.  
"Lizzie," I heard my mom's voice rise from outside the closed door, "Are you okay? You haven't been out all day." I sighed. Good old Mom. She thinks she knows everything.  
"I'm fine, Mom," I replied. "Just tired." I know she didn't buy it, but I heard her footsteps click away anyway. Maybe I should do something. I checked my make up quickly in the mirror, then ran downstairs and out the door.  
"Have fun," Mom called. Freaky, she is.  
There's not much to do on a Sunday. Monday is just kind of looming at you, waiting to pounce. I've always hated Sundays for this. Your laziness just keeps growing and growing until suddenly Monday's there and you can't do anything about it.  
My shoes found their way to the Digital Bean. Of course.  
I can be extremely typical sometimes. I prefer safety, really, rather than risk. I mean, why put it all on the line for one adrenaline rush? But then... what if there's nothing to put on the line just because you don't take risks?  
It occurred to me that I should've called Gordo or Miranda. I vaguely remembered wondering if Miranda was going to ask Gordo that day. Most likely. I think she was just as curious as I was.  
"Hi," I smiled at the pretty blonde behind the counter. "Could I have a strawberry smoothie? Thanks." I gazed across the room, searching for a glance at Ethan or maybe someone I could wave to (so I didn't look like I TOTAL social reject). My eyes fell at one table in particular, but I'm not sure why.  
It was this couple, leaning close to each other, talking softly. I heart melted for them. They looked so sweet together. They weren't even swapping spit or something totally disgusting. They were just enjoying each others' company.  
I desperately wished I had someone like that. Someone I could actually talk to and hug close and dream about daily. Or nightly. Whatever.  
I turned away from the cute couple to grab my smoothie and pay the girl.  
"Cute blouse," I commented, pointing at her shirt. It was just the typical Digital Bean uniform, but I felt like I had to say SOMETHING nice to her. She had put a little umbrella in my smoothie.  
"Thanks," She looked at me strangely. I sat at a little table and sipped the concoction slowly, looking around. I sighed in frustration. Why wasn't anyone there? I dug in my purse briefly, looking for my cell phone. Enough was enough. I HAD to call Miranda and find out if she asked yet.  
Maybe I can stop her before she does, I thought. I mean, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, dating someone who you don't really love...  
I dialed the number slowly, then hung up before it could ring. No, I was being stupid. I just saw her a few hours ago. There's no way she reached Gordo already. And even if she did, he probably couldn't tear himself away from a science experiment or something. And it's not like Miranda to start things she doesn't want to do right away. I sighed again. I probably wouldn't know until two weeks from then!  
I took another long sip of smoothie and thought things out. If I don't break up with Gordo, we'll be living a lie. Or at least I will. But if I do, he might be hurt. Or I might regret it. Maybe I did love Gordo, and I just didn't know what love was. Maybe we're meant to be together forever, and I just somehow let it pass by. Maybe if I don't break up with him, I won't be able to talk about anything else for as long as I live.  
My glass was suddenly empty, much to my surprise. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and pulled out my lip gloss to put on another layer.  
The thing about lip gloss is that it NEVER stays on for the entire day. You always have to reapply it like fifty times to look half decent. They really need to invent long-lasting lip gloss.  
I almost scared myself, zooming from a serious matter to lip gloss. Was I as materialistic as I sounded? My mind instantly floated to Kate and the lip gloss that was now at the bottom of my purse, but I shrugged it off. I was being ridiculous.  
I couldn't stand it any longer. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Miranda's number. Busy signal. Good; maybe she was calling Gordo. I was suddenly horrified at the thought. I immediately tried to cell, praying she WASN'T talking to Gordo.  
I heard her familiar ring (Greensleeves) and looked around the room. She was no where to be seen... weird...  
"Hello?," Her voice answered.  
"Miranda! Where are you?," I plugged my other ear, trying to hear her over the clinking dishes around the place.  
"The Digital Bean. Where are you?," She questioned.  
"I'm at the Digital Bean..," I said slowly, absorbing this information.  
"Where? I don't see you," She questioned.  
I gazed around the room for her.  
"Why are YOU here?," I asked, ignoring her last question.  
"I'm talking to Gordo," She replied. I felt that horrified feeling jump back.  
"Is he okay? Does he hate me? He's all right, right?," I said in a suddenly hushed whisper.  
"Yeah," She said, just as perky. I raised my eyebrows.  
"Did you TELL him?"  
"Oh. No, not yet." Would she lose the perky tone?  
"Ugh. Fine. Whatever. I'm leaving," I resigned, grabbing my purse. "Sorry I didn't see you guys.." I headed towards the door. "Catch you on the flip side." I hung up the phone, pausing in the doorway. I took a last look around the room. It was kind of weird not to notice your best friends in a place that's not that big.  
I watched the cute couple again longingly. The girl leaned over and pecked at guy on the cheek. He looked really surprised, and so did she. She stood up immediately and dashed towards the bathroom. I felt a sympathy towards them and frowned.  
My jaw dropped as I realized the guy was Gordo. What the hell?! My hand drifted slowly towards my mouth to cover it. Did this count as Gordo cheating on me? No, it was a peck. Just a peck. A friendly one. But what girl would...  
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. MIRANDA was with Gordo. I shook my head and swallowed. Calmly as I could, I walked out of the door.  
Calm my foot. My entire body was shaking.  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
A/N: Come on, I had to do it.  
I must get back in the groove of thanking you guys. All the way back to chapter SIX.  
Love-fool: Hey, my Amy-ness! Long time no... greetings. Angst is VERY fun to write, because.. Well, it just is OKAY?? ::sob:: LEAVE ME ALONE!!! ::slams door in your face, then opens it:: ahem. Hello again. Well, thanks for reviewing!!!  
Diva: Isn't being in the Sisterhood FUN? You get to brag to all your friends... "heh, heh, you suck! I'm a shoe!" Then you can go to therapy. What fun. Anyway, my sexy shoe sister (not that I'm hitting on you), thank you MUCHO for reviewing. Reviews ::sniff:: are my life.  
Voodoo Child: Ah, Chris. OUR FIRST MALE MEMBER. I'm so proud ::sniff::. Well, it's not like your reading this, so MUCHO thank you for reviewing. Adios!  
Nahima Tala: Heh, heh. God I love you. Lack of M/G, eh? When does THAT ever happen in my stories? Kisses and thanks!  
See the light: Man, you've been REVIEWING, sister! But hey! I love you bunches. Thanks for all the compliments on my writing skills. You're not bad with a pen yourself, groovy! Kisses and loves.  
PinkPrincess: You always have such awesome reviews. I love the way you point out what you liked, like a true critic. It's excellent. Just what a writer looks for. Kisses and hugs! Thanks for reviewing.  
KT the Shimmer Skank: Merci boucoup, mon amie ::feels French:: Anyway.. Thank you for reviewing! Okay, so technically, you should be in the shoe sisterhood, since you've reviewed my other stories too. But, oh well! I'm bitter and lonely, not to mention mean. Thanks!  
VisionInGold: Egads! Caley! You've been reincarnated! Anyway, thank you for reviewing. and registering.. I'm so excited now! Muwa! 


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